Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/At Break of Day

For other versions of this work, see At Break of Day.

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Poems, Volume I by Florence Earle Coates At Break of Day

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AT BREAK OF DAY

I  THOUGHT that past the gates of doom,  Where Orpheus played a strain divine  Of love importunate as mine, Unto the dwellings of the dead I came through paths of gloom. Around me, looming dark through cloud,  Vast walls arose whence mournful fell  The shadow and the hush of hell; And silence, brooding, palpable, enwrapped me like a shroud. Naught blossomed there; in that chill place  Where longing dwells divorced from hope,  Naught to a joyless horoscope Lent prophecies of future grace, but—I beheld thy face! And I awoke,—songs trembling near,—  Awoke and saw day's chariot pass  Bright gleaming o'er the meadow-grass, And knew this glad earth without thee, than realms of Death more drear!